


warmest regards.

by helvetica_upstart



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cunnilingus, David ‘Praise Kink’ Rose, F/M, Laughter During Sex, Riding, canon typical use of weed to make Poor Choices, takes place episode 1x09 Carl’s Funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetica_upstart/pseuds/helvetica_upstart
Summary: Stevie’s friendship is unprecedented, strange and wonderful, and David has a history of ruining all of the strange and wonderful things that he tries to call his own.“Kiss me,” she says, and of course he does.





	warmest regards.

Stevie’s smiling so hard that David is mostly kissing her teeth, and he can’t stop giggling. She’s under him in the ridiculous, heart-shaped bed, his weight braced on one elbow and his other hand caressing the skin above the waistband of her jeans. Her thighs spread and he settles between them. She shudders, presses into him, and her head falls back against the pillow. He chases her lips.

“David,” she says, but it’s muffled through their kiss. She breaks away. “David.”

He pulls back until they’re nose to nose. Her face is just a blur beneath him; all he can see are her blown pupils surrounded by inky lashes and the sweat beading along her hairline. More breath than voice, he asks, “What?”

Her ribs shake under him with laughter. “Look, there’s a— it’s, oh my god, there’s a mirror.”

David rolls off of her. They’re lying side by side, the whole length of her body against his, her hair splayed on the pillow beside him. They could be stargazing or something romantic, like this, just two people—

“There’s a mirror on the ceiling,” David hisses. His eyelids are heavy and swollen, high on the joints they’d rolled and high on her. He always gets so horny when he smokes, almost Pavlovian from his days in dark clubs and dark corners of mansions. His whole body is thrumming like a live wire. He blinks. Blinks again. And again. It’s still there. “Stevie. There’s a ceiling mirror?”

“Yeah,” she says, and reaches over to cup his face. She turns him back towards her, kisses him gently. Just a peck. “Hey.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a Stevie before. There’s been people he’s wanted to fuck, and people he wanted, and people he wanted to want him. There’s been people who broke his heart, who stepped all over him and asked for more, who insisted on being voyeurs to every secret part of him and then hated him for being knowable.

There’s never been a Stevie.

He feels like being known by her would almost not feel like being destroyed.

He enjoys spending time with her and he gives a fuck about how she feels. Like, an actual fuck, like it makes him sad when she’s sad and happy when she’s happy. That’s new. He wants to make her happy; he wants to give her this.

“I want you,” he says, and she gives a reedy sigh. He kisses her neck, right over her thundering pulse. She smells like hot leather, in her stupid sexy jacket, and like linen underneath. She smells familiar like the towels she brings him and he wants her.

“What do you want?” she asks, and he answers with his body. He peels off her jacket. Her skin is blotchy and flushed with heat underneath. He traces the colors with his lips and teeth, from her arm down her collarbone over the bumps of her sternum. He exhales over her cleavage, watching goosebumps rise, and she makes an annoyed noise when he doesn’t follow through.

He could probably unbutton her flannel with his teeth on a good day, if he wasn’t high and out of practice. Huskily, he says, “Help me take this off.”

“You too,” she says, sitting up, fingers flying down the buttons of her shirt. She has a camisole underneath that she peels off, and she looks at him expectantly. Right. He shucks his sweater and folds it; it’s not sexy, but he’s predictable.

Stevie runs her hands over his chest and arms. She says, “God, why do you hide this all the time.”

David runs his hand up her sweat damp spine, from the hem of her jeans to her bra. He hesitates, because he knows he can unhook it one-handed without looking except he maybe can’t right now and he really, really doesn’t want to fumble it like a teenager.

“Go for it,” she says, misreading his hesitance. He leans in to kiss her, one hand in her hair, so at least if it goes wrong she’ll be distracted, but then the clasp pops right open and he wishes he’d gotten to show off after all. He can be so good at this, if she’ll let him.

There’s a splitting shriek on the other side of the wall as the baby starts wailing. Bree and Sean begin to argue again.

“Oh my God,” David complains. Stevie’s eyes are shining.

“You took the hat.”

It’s on the bed beside them. David picks it up and whips it across the room. The bill thuds against the door and the argument in the other room lapses into silence.

“Hey, keep it down!” Stevie shouts, pitching her voice low and creaky like an old woman’s. “Shut up! It’s our fiftieth anniversary and we want to fuck!”

“Oh my God,” David repeats, hiding his helpless giggles in the crook of Stevie’s neck.

“Ew!” Sean says, but then Bree berates him for not being romantic, says _you’ll be lucky if I’ll still want to fuck you in fifty years,_ and finally there’s the sound of the motel door closing behind them as they leave.

Whatever bewildered delight is on David’s face is reflected back by Stevie’s. David says, “You using that voice is the least sexy thing I’ve ever had happen to me.”

“Rude,” Stevie says, still crotchety, and David is actually thinking about stopping just to prove a point when she pulls him back on top of her. Her legs wrap around his waist. In her normal voice she says, “Kiss me.”

Of course he does.

Her mouth is slick and lazy against his. His fingertips trace gentle swirls on the undersides of her breasts and across her nipples. He could do this for hours. Maybe he says that out loud, because she says, “No, more.”

It’s not a request. He realizes all at once how achingly hard he is, trapped beneath the zipper of his skinny jeans, and how much harder he’ll get if she keeps ordering him around. He pulls back to take off his pants.

After, he just looks at her. She’s all flushed skin and heaving chest, dark hair against the ruby red of the sheets. She’s ethereal. He can’t believe that she’s here, in the honeymoon suite of the Schitt’s Creek Motel. If he was still in New York, she would belong in his gallery, at his side for champagne toasts, the hidden gem of any collection.

Stevie smiles self-consciously. “What?”

In lieu of answer, David kisses his way down her stomach. He undoes the rivet button on her jeans with his forefinger and thumb, then takes the zipper between his teeth. He looks at her and keeps steady eye contact as he unzips.

“Oh my fucking God.”

She’s wearing white cotton boyshorts, already a little translucent where she is wet. He kisses a little above the damp spot, an educated guess at her clit proven right when she gasps, and he follows the arch of her hips with his tongue. It’s a litany now, _oh my God fuck oh David fuck yes —_

He peels off her underwear and holds her open with his thumbs. He takes a minute to just be selfish, luxuriating in the thick salty taste of her, kissing her where she’s slickest because he loves this, he’s always loved this.

Her hands find his hair and she pulls him back to where she wants him. He obliges, sucking and rubbing and teasing. Her fingers tighten in his hair. Usually he doesn’t like having it pulled, but that’s more of a styling issue than a tactile one, and the hat has probably ruined it all anyway. Her thighs quiver and then try to snap shut.

David pulls back, worried. “Do you not…?”

Stevie’s lower lip is puffy where she’s bitten it, and there’s a wild darkness in her eyes. “It’s so good. Sorry, I can’t — my thighs freak out a little, when it’s this good.”

David brightens with smug pride. “Oh, well, that’s, uh. Fine.”

“Sorry,” she says again.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, and presses a kiss to her inner thigh. His lips leave a shine behind from her own wetness. “Your thighs are sexy. You could choke me with these and I’d thank you.”

“Uhn,” Stevie groans as he begins to eat her out again. “Don’t make promises you—”

He works until his jaw is sore. Her thighs shudder and clamp against his face, so he keeps his hands on her ass and thighs help keep control. He wishes he could get fingers inside her, use them to get her there, but he wouldn’t trade the hot press of her inner thigh against his cheeks for anything. She’s going to have so much stubble burn tomorrow that she will ache to walk, and he hopes she likes that; he knows he always has. His own hips jerk and grind against the mattress.

He knows she’s coming when her filthy muttering cuts off into silence and she yanks at his hair so hard he has to pull off. He’s a little disappointed that his mouth wasn’t there to feel the twitches and aftershocks of her orgasm, but he gets to watch, and that’s almost as good.

“Thank you,” he says, because he keeps his promises.

She gives a ragged laugh, tinged with disbelief. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, you did,” he assures, and they both snicker. He wipes his wet face against the red sheets and winces, thinking of how many other people have probably done the same.

The hazy dusk of the room is broken by flashes of golden light: he thinks he’s so turned on he’s seeing things until he realizes it’s a fucking disco ball. His head is spinning with his own arousal and the lingering high. Stevie looks exhausted, though, so he takes himself in hand. The bed rocks under his movement, and that gets her attention.

“What are you — no, don’t,” Stevie says, “Let’s take fifteen, and then I’d kind of want to fuck?”

Another pleased smile comes to David’s lips. It takes some willpower, but he manages to stop touching himself. Unlike her, him coming more than once is not on the table. “Fifteen, huh?”

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s smiling too. “Five. Oh, shit, we don’t have condoms.”

David finds his jeans on the floor and pulls his wallet out of the back pocket. Sure enough, there’s still a condom in the pouch that used to hold hundred dollar bills.

Stevie’s eyes are sparkling. “You carry one around Schitt’s Creek?”

David can’t bring himself to be embarrassed because it’s at least coming in handy right now. He says, “I’m an optimist.”

“Is it expired?” she snarks.

“Rude,” he grumbles. He does actually check, because she’s not wrong, it’s been… a while. It’s still good though, so he tosses it onto the pillow and settles beside her. He’s not a cuddler, but he’s not one to pass up luxuriating in a nice afterglow. After a moment, she settles her head against his sweaty chest.

They rest together for a bit. Stevie traces the muscles in his torso and arms with gentle fingertips. She kisses his shoulder. He’s not quite dozing, but he’s out of it enough that he barely notices when their touches begin to heat up again. His mouth falls open when she bites at his collarbone as one of her fingers traces his nipple.

“Please,” he says, barely more than an exhale. She climbs on top of him and rubs against his thigh with confident rolls of her hips as she licks around his nipple. “Mmm, yes.”

He wants to crack himself open for her and let all of his twisty feelings spill out. He wants to tell her all of his secrets, all of his best places to touch, everything that’s ever made him scream. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself. It’s so good, and yet he still knows they’ll both regret it in the morning. There’s no need to make the regrets more potent.

“I bet you can put these on someone else with your mouth, huh?” Stevie asks, ripping open the condom. David just nods. Stevie stares at him for a minute like she’s considering trying it, then works it on him with her hand instead. David groans under her touch.

“Well?” Stevie asks, “Um, how do you want to—”

“Dibs on not looking at the mirror,” David says, and she frowns.

“That’s kinda where I was at too…”

They stare at one another. Finally David offers, “Doggy?”

Stevie shrugs and settles onto all fours. He presses himself against her back but doesn’t push in, just rocks against her ass and reaches around her to rub at her clit. After a few minutes, she’s begging him to be inside her, and he lines himself up.

It’s

Oh—

The last time he was with someone was on silk sheets in New York in a haze of ecstasy and desperation. He doesn’t think the way fucking feels is something that is possible to forget, but maybe the memory faded, because he doesn’t recall it feeling like this. Everything is a hot blur except for the pleasure mounting insistently at the base of his spine and the rhythmic sounds of his thrusts.

He presses open-mouthed kisses against the back of her neck. He wishes he could see her face. She’s quieter now, but not in the way she went before she came.

“Hey, is this—”

Stevie laughs a little. “Not really. Can we—”

Of course. He wants it to be good for her. He can be so good for her. He pulls out, and offers, “Anything.”

She turns around. “I want to ride you.”

David doesn’t really want to watch his own stupid face in the ceiling mirror, but he’s never going to refuse _that_ offer. Besides, it’ll probably be damn near impossible to look away from her. “I mean, if you insist.”

He settles back on his elbows and tries to keep his gaze from straying upwards. She straddles him, and then sinks down, bracing herself with two hands on his chest.

“Good?” he asks over a broken gasp.

“Good,” she confirms, “You?”

“Fuck yes,” he says as she begins to move more confidently. It’s a slow steady rock, more forwards than up, bringing her face closer to his on every upstroke. He does half a crunch, abs tight, just so that he can kiss her neck. Well. Pant against her neck.

His vision goes out of focus. He’s near crescendo when she stops bouncing and jerks her hips in selfish little grinds, rubbing off against his pelvis. She comes and it’s an implosion. Her face tightens into a near scowl and she gives a ragged gasp, back arching. She tightens rhythmically around him. Her nails dig into David’s pecs, blood rising in the tracks, and David gasps along with her.

Her head drops, hair falling in a sweaty curtain around them. She starts to ride him again, face twitching with oversensitivity. “I want you to come—”

“Yeah,” David says, using one of his hands to press her nails deeper into the ragged welts, “Um, talk to me—”

“You’re so hot, this was so good,” she says, leaning down so that she’s biting the words into his jaw, “It’s going to keep me up at night, so good, you’re so good—”

He comes. He’s been on edge for what feels like forever, and his release is equal parts pleasure and relief. White starbursts pop behind his eyelids and he is consumed by them. He groans out Stevie’s name, and his hips stutter as he loses the rhythm.

When his eyes flutter back open, her face is inches from his. He licks his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says softly, and kisses him.

After a minute of this, he helps guide her off with firm hands on her thighs, then ties the condom. Stevie takes it from him and chucks it across the room, where it lands neatly in the trash can. She snickers, “You would have missed.”

She’s not wrong but David frowns theatrically at her anyway.

He lifts up the covers and crawls beneath them. She follows, turning towards him. She pushes his sweaty hair back from his face and looks into his eyes. He kisses her again, and there’s something bruised in knowing it is probably for the last time, even if that’s probably for the best.

Her friendship is unprecedented, strange and wonderful, and David has a history of ruining all of the strange and wonderful things that he tries to call his own.

David doesn’t want her to regret it.

David already regrets it.

She’s so important to him that it’s an achy terror.

***

“This was a good choice, right?”

“Yep.”

“We make good choices.”

“Mm-hmm, this was a really healthy choice. Well, I'm gonna go to work now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me about David 'Praise Kink' 'Will Go Down' Rose
> 
> EDIT: I grin each time I get a notification, thank you all for your lovely comments! Can guarantee it's inspired me to keep writing for this incredible fandom while we wait for s6 <3


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